ilence Philon walked home. Not until they were all in the
house and Ursula was hastening toward her second-floor room did he say
a word. "I suppose your 'other engagement' means the Cairo again
tonight?"

Ascending on the escalator Ursula turned to look scornfully over her
shoulder. "Yes! Anything to escape from boredom. All that woman talked
about while you were in the basement was redecorating the house or
about cooking and asking my opinions. _Ugh!_"

Philon laughed mirthlessly. "Yeah, I guess she picked a flat number to
discuss those things with. Anything you might have learned about them
you must have got out of a psychoplay."

Stepping off the escalator at the top Ursula spit a nasty epithet his
way, then disappeared into the upstairs hall.

John stood at the foot of the escalator, a reluctant witness to the
bickering. Divining his attitude Philon mentally shrugged it off. The
kid might as well learn what married life was like in these modern
days.

"You got the book, eh?"

John pulled a book from his suit coat and laid it on a small table.
"Yes, there's the book--and I never felt so rotten about anything in
all my life!"

Philon said, "Kid, you've got a lot to learn about getting along in
this world."

"All right--so I've got a lot to learn," John cried bitterly. "But
there must be more to life than trying to stop the other guy from
stripping the shirt off your back while you succeed in stripping off
his!"

With that he took the escalator to the upper hall while Philon watched
him disappear.

Left alone now, Philon settled into a chair by a window and stared
down the street at the MacDonald house. Odd people--it almost seemed
they didn't belong in this time and period, considering their queer
ways of thinking and looking at things. MacDonald himself in
particular had some odd personal attitudes.

Like that incident in his basement--Philon had curiously pulled open a
heavy steel door to a small cubicle filled with a most complex
arrangement of large coils and heavy insulators and glassed-in
filaments. MacDonald was almost rude in closing the door when he found
Philon opening it. He had fumbled and stuttered around, explaining the
room was a niche where he did a little experimenting on his own. Yes,
strange people.

The next day Philon eagerly hastened to a bookstore dealing in antique
editions. Hugging the book closely Philon told himself his troubles
were all over. The book would surely bring be